


Untold Stories

by tiredofthisbs



Series: Twists of fate [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Betrayal, Bombs, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Im tired please forgive me for spelling mistakes, Lesbians in Space, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religion, Speeches, a collection of works related to Twists of Fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredofthisbs/pseuds/tiredofthisbs
Summary: My collections of works from the Twists of Fate universe! Spoilers(?) so keep that in mind. I will mark what point the chapter is from, if I feel the need to.Enjoy :)(Chapter 1 can be read as a standalone headcanon)
Relationships: Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Zarkon (Voltron)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Twists of fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1400230
Kudos: 4





	Untold Stories

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification: "We have gotten many close calls, even managed to fatally wound him five times, but the witch always keeps on nurturing him back to health:" -Keith, Promises, Chapter 3

**The first attempt: A Battle of Wills.**

The two figures didn't waste time running down the halls of the ship, their feet giving off no sound as they pound against the floors of the vessel. Both of their hearts beat in tandem, their brand new suits glistening in the dim purple light of a galra ship. 

The taller figure, their mask and hood pulled up, the mask with two slits as eye holes, skits to a stop at a passing of two pathways. They hear the sound of the incoming patrol before the smaller figure does, raising one finger to halt the both of them. They blend into the wall behind them as the patrol passes, the soldiers chatting along about the coming holidays. 

The two continue at a brisk pace, nearing the center of the ship, where the patrols lessen and the hum of the engines quiets. The two figures do still stay silent, however, their feet almost flying across the floor. 

They finally reach the area of the ship without patrols or any other galra for that matter. Both of them tense up, the smaller's large eye holes scanning the hallway around them at an erratic pace, their head spinning around to keep up with the eyes, a stark contrast to the taller figure, keeping their head still and gaze locked forward. 

The two eventually reach the end of the long hallway, passing by many closed doors. The final door is a large, heavily decorated one. The golden pattern on it glistens in the very dim light of the hallway. The two glance at each other, before pushing the double doors open. 

The doors reveal a huge room behind them, the wall opposite to them opening up to a full-height window, displaying a view of the space around them. One of the other walls is covered in bookshelves, housing thousands of books older than any person in the room. The final wall is occupied by a huge bed, filled with comfortable pillows and shadowed by curtains, which are open, unusual for the time of the ship's cycle. There is no one on the bed, either.

The person who's supposed to be in bed is standing in the middle of the room on a small, raised platform. The hulking form of the galra in front of them is unmistakable, especially when he opens his mouth to speak. 

"Two lonely assassins. Pull back your masks, introduce yourselves", the man speaks, his voice vibrating in the echo of the room. It brings shivers to the backs of the two Blades, who are frozen in fear, finally facing the man that had been plaguing them for the previous years. "Now now", the Emperor snickers. "Such impoliteness."

The taller of the two figures moves first, starting by pulling aside her hood. The smaller figure hisses a "No!" but it doesn't stop the taller figure from pulling her mask aside as well, revealing a tired looking galra under it. Her skin is one of the darkest possible for a galra, the purple so deep it blends into the shadows of the room. The woman's eyes are two bright yellow slits on her face and her ears are pulled back into a defensive motion. Her tail flicks nervously. 

"Gina!" Zarkon huffs. "I knew you were up to bad, but to go to such extremes!" Zarkon chuckles, tilting his head, spreading his arms dramatically. "And for what? For revenge?" 

"It's because of you that my entire family is dead. Not to mention the entire race of Altea!" 

Zarkon's expression gets colder. "Do not speak of them."

"Of Alteans?" the smaller figure huffs, dropping her mask.

Behind it is a light-skinned Altean, her pink markings two furious lines on her cheeks. Her face is framed by locks of blue hair, the long locks tied into a braid resting around her neck. "Of the race you murdered out of pure spite and defiance?" 

Zarkon's previously mildly offended expression turns into one of pure hatred and anger as he rests his eyes on the Altean. "Who are you, vermin?" he asks, spitting out the insult. "And how dare you step a foot into my ship?" 

"I am Marigo of Altea and I do not fear you, you foolish man."

Zarkon's eyes widen upon the woman's disrespectful tone. "Once before, I admired you", the woman begins, frowning. "I believed that you were a bringer of peace, the leader of Voltron! When I was little, I heard stories of your deeds and protection of the Universe! I grew up, thinking of you as a savior, a beacon of hope, a bringer of love, uniting two races", Marigo speaks, grabbing Gina's hand at the mention of love, dragging Zarkon's sharp eyes to their connected hands. 

"But all you turned out to be is a fraud. A traitor, someone who doesn't care about anyone else but his own survival. You are no protector of the people, but a cruel man and a horrible tyrant."

Zarkon is quiet, but the room's atmosphere is deadly. He thinks about his next words carefully, directing them to Gina, instead of the fuming altean.

"You have been brainwashed by this... altean, my warrior", Zarkon states "You still have a chance to change. Surely you can think for yourself, warrior. Deep down inside you know that she is a liar. Alteans always see themselves as some kind of saints, like they're above us other races. It was for the betterment for the universe that they perished. Surely the lost of Daibazaal has not left your memory? Surely the loosing of our home world is a wound not yet patched?" Zarkon speaks, looking at Gina. "You have a chance, now, to change sides. Stand with the Empire, stand with the path to a peaceful universe."

Gina closes her eyes, the two slits closing, making her face on of pure dark purple. She takes a deep breath, before snaking her eyes open again. 

"There cannot be peace in the universe with you at the reigns. Your rule will bring nothing but death and destruction, the fabrication of the word that once used to be freedom. I want no part in such a thing."

Zarkon sighs, pulling out his sword. The two women answer by pulling out their blades, Gina's knife turning into a sword in the flash of a light.

"You chose your fate."

Marigo and Gina lunge forward, both choosing a side of Zarkon to occupy, Marigo taking up Zarkon's right, Gina his left. The two women attack in perfect sync, immediately forcing Zarkon to back down from his pedestal, avoiding and blocking the bows of the two women, neither of them giving him a moment to think of forming any sort of plan. 

They force Zarkon to back up, almost to the windows, but the Emperor refuses to be cornered. He swings his sword at Marigo, forcing the other to change her attack pattern. Gina tries to use the opportunity but Zarkon smacks her face with his other hand, forcing the galra to back off a bit. 

While Gina tries to clear her vision, Zarkon focuses on Marigo, unleashing a horrid set of attacks, slicing at an incredible speed. Marigo manages to avoid many of the swipes, but nicks her hand and cheek in the process. The altean is forced to retreat towards the bookshelves behind her. 

Gina gathers herself and throws her sword, Zarkon only barely avoiding it. The sword hits the bookshelf with a thunk, embedding itself deep into the wood, sliding in between two books.

Zarkon finishes his attacks and sweeps down with his leg, making Marigo loose her stance. The altean stumbles, trying to catch something in order to not fall down. Zarkon turns around and approaches Gina, who realizes she doesn't have a weapon. In her panic she backs up, hitting the edge of Zarkon's bed with a soft thunk. 

"Gina!" A yelp comes, just as Zarkon reaches the galra. A blade swooshes through the air, forcing Zarkon to dodge, loosing his momentum. Gina catches the blade, lunging for the Emperor while he's uncertain of his next move. 

Gina manages to slice Zarkon's side before he kicks her, sending Gina flying across the room, hitting the heavy doors of Zarkon's bedchambers with a groan. Marigo rushes to her side, helping the galra up. Zarkon stalks next to the window, breathing heavily. He isn't wearing his battle armor, but his more casual one, protecting him way less than the battle one. He must finish this quickly.

The two women see the determination in his eyes and a cold dread takes over them. They move for a final attack with a last glance at each other. 

Zarkon surprises them by running at them as well, a small smile dancing on his lips. Gina's eyes widen when she realizes the man's intentions, but she has no time but to shout a strangled "Mari-".

The Emperor strikes, avoiding Gina's reach for him by dancing to the other direction, meanwhile swiping his sword along Marigo's stomach, the woman spitting out blood as he swipes her in half, the altean falling apart, her blood splattering on the soft carpet of the bedroom.

"A shame", Zarkon muses. "I really liked this carpet."

Gina is frozen, her eyes stuck on the image of her lover, split in half by the Emperor's edge sharp sword. Marigo had fallen face down, so Gina doesn't see her expression, but the woman's torso isn't moving. 

Isn't breathing.

"It's too bad, to be honest", Zarkon muses. "You two showed such promise. But you walked yourselves straight into the cave of the dragon."

His lips curl into a mean smile. "And now you will be separated for a long, long time."

Gina raises her eyes from her dead lover, her mouth forming around a question and her eyebrows frowning in anger, when the doors spring open. 

"Ah, about time. Arrest her", Zarkon orders the incoming soldiers, who don't hesitate in running to the dark-toned galra before she has time to resist. She does wake from her trance, struggling against the soldiers.   
  
"You can't do this! Let me die!" she screams, trying to get away from the guards. Her blade is wrangled away from her, clattering to the ground next to Marigo's. 

"I'm afraid I won't", Zarkon answers. "You can still be of use. And her, well, she will never be of use to me, not alive. But Haggar will enjoy a new subject."

Gina's eyes widen and she screams and shouts as she's dragged away, her sound eventually disappearing into the hallways of the dark ship.

Zarkon waits 'til the ship is silent before collapsing, heaving a heavy breath before quieting.

  


  


**The second attempt: A Battle of Life and Death**

It's been a long, long time since someone tried to harm the Emperor. Haggar stands to his side, observing the treaties being signed around them: it is not often a planet is ruled by so many different people that their leaders must gather in a huge party to sign every contract. In fact, it would have been much easier to just take over the planet by force, instead of forging a treaty like this. 

Haggar glances at Zarkon, who is busying himself by chatting to some pretty member of the planet's biggest people, her genes allowing her to grow as tall as Zarkon. Haggar would like to intervene, to bring her Emperor's focus back to what they're supposed to be doing, yet she knows he would not appreciate it. 

It is rare, that Zarkon has fun like this, with a pretty woman or man, and Haggar know better than to disrespect that. Still, she feels anxious, for some reason.

This anxiousness is what makes her quietly order some of her best druids to take a look around to see, if this meeting is truly as safe and peaceful as the planet's leaders promised. Her druids disappearing into the crowd eases the anxiety in her chest, but only slightly, forcing Haggar to stay extra alert for the entirety of the event. 

One of her druids returns about a varga later, bringing back a report. Haggar manages to drag her eyes away from her Emperor for a few ticks to listen in to what the druid is saying. Everything seems clear for now but - 

The swish of an arrow sliding through air reaches Haggar's ears too slowly for her to do anything about it. Zarkon can't quite catch it either, having drunk a few too many drinks and maybe too focused on the woman still standing before him.

The arrow hits the Emperor's neck, penetrating it, making the woman scream.

The room erupts in chaos. 

Haggar runs to Zarkon, immediately using one of the newer spells she's learnt: she freezes the area around Zarkon to be frozen in time, the Emperor freezing just as Haggar senses his quintessence almost slipping away from between her fingertips. She sighs in relief, before turning to the druid that was previously talking to her.

"Find this archer and you won't be punished for distracting me. I want them alive."

"Yes high priestess."

The druid shuffles away and Haggar turns to Zarkon, sighing defeatedly. 

"Uhm... high priestess?" a voice calls and Haggar turns to be face to face with one of the planet's original people. A white-skinned man, dressed in multi-layered robes and wearing a concerned expression. "Our people are ready to help in any way we can. We had no knowledge of such an attack, nor are there any rebels on our planet who would've planned such a thing, not to our knowledge. We offer our assistance in anything you might need."

Haggar ponders the man's words, but sees no lie in his expression, body language or eyes. His tone is honest and filled with confusion and concern. 

"What is your name?"

The man looks baffled before answering: "I am Toro, a man with... the power of speech."

Haggar nods. She is aware of these... powers of the people here. The power of speech is what allows this man to actually approach her, his words having a certain impact. It does not concern Haggar, however, as her alternated quintessence forbids of such power's effect on her. 

"Well, Toro, I do have a job for your people", Haggar sighs. "Would you be able to get something to carry Zarkon back to the ship with?"

Toro glances at the Emperor, his eyes quickly taking in the size and probable weight of the man, including his armor. The arrow, still embedded in his neck, makes Haggar slit her eyes with discomfort. 

"I'm sure something suitable can be found", Toro finally says, bowing. "Anything else?"

"Assist my druids with finding and capturing this archer. I want them brought to me, alive", Haggar orders, ordering one of the druids close by to her with one hand movement. "This druid will be in charge of your people's search. Is that alright?"

Toro bows. "That is just fine. Please, follow me. I'm sure there is plenty of suitable searchers here."

Toro disappears into the crowd, the druid following him. Haggar lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding before looking back to her Emperor, trying to figure out how to fix this.

  


  


**The third attempt: A Battle of Force**   


A meeting room, filled with only the elite of the Empire. A conference, filled with big decisions, affecting the entirety of the universe as we know it. A gathering of the most important people in existence.

The perfect opportunity.

After their last, somehow failed, attempt at killing the Emperor, the Blades have returned, this time more faster than ever before. It has been barely a deca-phoeb since that arrow slit the Emperor's throat, the only thing saving him from death being the witch.  


This time, the dreadful woman is far, far away and Zarkon, along with the rest of his best warriors, will perish and the universe will be moving towards being clean of the ink splatter which is the galra rule as we know it.

A few shadows, dancing outside of the sight lines of the guards outside. A small Blade, easily fitting inside one of the vents, slipping into the meeting room without getting noticed, the thump of their step hidden by the sounds of fifteen arguing galra and their smell hidden by the fifteen other smells, mingling up with each other, filling even the Emperor's nostrils, as he sits in his chair, clearly the most bored he has been in centuries.

Twenty bombs, small, soundless devices. They are planted with precision, to not only destroy the room completely but cause a chain reaction, with luck even exploding the entire ship. Not even Zarkon will be able to withstand such damage.

The Blade plants the bombs, their fingers never shaking, their heartbeat steady and movements swift. He exits the way he came as a new argument bursts out, causing shouts to clog up everyone's ears. The grin of the agent is hidden by his mask, but the lightness in his steps is not.

When the small team of three is outside of the ship, the small one presses the button.

The watch the light show, captivated by the sheer beauty. The explosion spreads, just as calculated, destroying over half of the vessel. Chaos is what spreads around them next, everyone not on the ship fumbling to ask for reports form the mother ship. 

The Blades waste no time in fleeing the scene.

  


The next movement is filled with anxious air in the base of the Blade of Marmora as they wait for news of Zarkon's fate. Haggar is spotted returning to the Imperial ship, scavenging the ruins. They don't know if she finds something or not. 

The air is filled not only with anxiousness but also hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, everything is over now. Maybe Zarkon is gone: the man may be immortal but there must be a limit. Haggar was there to not save him now. 

They finally get their answer, after three phoebs, in the form of a short video display. Jaws drop as the feed reveals a very tired but alive looking Zarkon, Haggar looming over his right shoulder. 

"I am aware that there have been... rumors of my condition going around."

That tone of voice brings chills to every Blade's back. The Emperor had been cold and distant before, but now... his tone of voice is monotone, lacking emotion. His eyes gleam with pure quintessence, locking into the eyes of the viewer immediately. 

"But I am alright now. The Empire's business will return to normal, and every newly promoted warlord has received message of their rise to power. Haggar here", Zarkon says, nodding slightly to the witch "Will track down whoever was responsible for this attack and punish them accordingly. Traitors will not be allowed in the Empire: there is no room for such weakness."

And then the transmission ends, leaving behind hundreds of scared and worried Blades.

The Emperor has changed: the voice, devoid of emotion it previously still harbored. The lack of dramatics, no _I lived, hah,_ nothing. 

It was so unlike him... it made the Blades fret. 

Had they, in their attempts to destroy their enemy, only made them stronger?

  


  


**The fourth attempt: A Battle of Giants**   


Years of hiding, of loosing agents one by one, and it all will end soon. The remaining Blades retreat to their last base, gathering under Hemy, who might be their last Leader. 

The group of Blades, consisting of maybe fifty warriors at best, is anxious, everyone fiddling, very aware of the nearing Empire forces. Hemy stands over them, concern written over his face.

The galra is old, nearing the end of his better days. Well, to be honest, he is long past his prime. His eyes have seen much violence, much death. He has seen generations rise and fall and is continuing to be one of the eldest naturally aging galra, but he is nowhere near retiring to his home planet. 

No, he has a job to do. He has people to take care of. 

"May I have your attention?" he asks, having no need to raise his voice. The Blades quiet, turning their yellow eyes to their Leader. "Thank you."

Hemy pauses, tasting the words on his tongue. He has never been good with speeches. 

"The Empire is coming, and we have narrowed too much to stop them anymore. Our last option seems to be to stay and fight until the last man, but I disagree."

The Blades glance at each other, trying to find answers in their fellow agent's eyes, yet find nothing. 

"We, as an organization, have failed. Our goal, for these past thousands of years, has been to kill the Emperor. To change the Empire. And we have failed, in every single aspect. Five thousand years has passed, and we have gotten close to killing the Emperor a mere three times. We send someone every year to do what we vowed to our ancestors to do, yet none have succeeded."

The Blades cower at Hemy's cold statement. 

"But we are far from done. We refuse to be squashed under the Empire's foot. We still, after all, do have one mission left."

Hemy holds an another pause.

"To protect the lions of Voltron."

A chorus goes through the Blades, who whisper to each other with hushed words, until one voice rings out: "How will we protect the lions, if we do not know where they are?"

Hemy smirks. "Well, let's start with finding them, then."

The Blades mutter to each other again, some sounding confused, others hopeful, others hypocritical.

"Leader, you are speaking of machines that the Empire has been looking for for five thousand years, and you expect us to just... find them?"

Hemy nods. "There is a difference between us and him, fellow Blades. We wish to help, to protect. The Empire only wishes to destroy, to use. There, is the difference between us and him. We will find the lions, because they will allow us to. He will not, because they will not allow him to."

The blades glance at each other, but something in Hemy's words has ignited a spark of hope in their minds.

"And with this, I put forth a motto, for our cause. _Knowledge or Death."_

A chorus of whispers runs through the members of the Blade of Marmora, as they grasp this new slur of words. 

"A motto to remind us of the difference between us and the Empire. We wish to seek the knowledge, the knowledge of life. Of the future, of the knowledge that the prophet Marmora placed upon us. The goddess of mystery and secrets has now bestowed us the knowledge that one day, Voltron will rise again and rid the universe of evil. We must accept this, and protect the lions until they can reach their destiny."

The Blades are quiet, frozen. Marmora's ancient prophecy is not often mentioned, but every time it is, it brings a purpose to the Blade's hearts. 

"So now, rush, find your purpose. Hide, do not let the Empire snuff out the last remains of the glory days. Goodbye, brothers and sisters. We will meet on the other side."

The Blades get the hint, leaving the room slowly but surely, bidding their final goodbyes, until only one is left.

Hamy smiles, placing a hand on his granddaughter's shoulders. 

"You should go as well, Mira."

The young galra frowns. "I can't just leave you here, to be found by Zarkon."

Hamy huffs. "Your old man will be just fine. Now, hush, off you go."

Mira tires to resist, but Hamy pushes her out of the door, into the empty hallway. The base is already becoming cold, abandoned by it's faithful residents. 

"Take one last look over these sacred halls, Mira, and go. My time to face my destiny has come, but yours has not. Leave, my granddaughter, and make sure that the Blade of Marmora will not end today."

Mira turns around to cast one concerned look over her grandfather before chuckling: "You always said you were bad at speeches, grandpa."

Hamy offers her a wink in response, before hurrying off. 

Mira stands in the middle of the hallway, for just a second, before rushing off, tears in the corners of her eyes and a small smile on her lips.

  


  


**The fifth attempt: A Battle of Lust**   


A smirk. A smile. A sway of hips. A swish of hair.

Raised eyebrows. High heels. Meeting eyes. Curious glances.

A fancy party. Too expensive wine. Words, pleasantly strung together. Friendly smiles, understanding smiles. Tired smiles.

It would be a lie to say nothing bubbled between the two. 

A cat, playing with a toy that's not hers. In fact, something that's not a toy at all.

It's a wild cat, playing cat and mouse with a hunting dog who's very hungry. 

And that's how an ordinary general ends up in the sheets of the Emperor of the galra Empire. 

If you could meet her, you could ask, who has the most comfortable bed in the universe, and she would answer that the Emperor does. 

If you could meet her, you could ask, if her feelings were ever real towards the man, and she would not provide you with a sensible answer. 

If you could meet her, you could ask, what made her do something so desperate, and she would answer with a small smile before turning away to never be seen again. 

  


Bloody sheets. 

  


A blood-curling scream, which, surprisingly, doesn't come from the woman. 

  


A knife. 

  


A gargle.

  


And silence.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see something else just let me know, I will be writing any suggestions I like or feel inspired by :D (They will have to, in some way, be related to the Twists of Fate series or canon events before the series' official start)


End file.
